


Sticking Together

by Banashee



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [24]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Arguing, BAMF Clint Barton, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Bruce Banner & Clint Barton Friendship, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Hostage Situations, Injury, Protectiveness, Restraints, Team as Family, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banashee/pseuds/Banashee
Summary: Bruce finds himself in a hostage situation along with Tony and Clint. He is afraid to let the Hulk take control in the closed off space, worrying that he might hurt or kill his freinds on accident.*+~Part 24 of my Bad Things Happen BingoPart 1 of a mini series
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Clint Barton & Tony Stark
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701046
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Sticking Together

**Author's Note:**

> Hi,  
> so, because I love a good writing challenge, I'm now taking a part in the Bad Things Happen Bingo.  
> https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/  
> Please mind the tags!
> 
> I'm cross-posting this to my tumblr, https://banashee.tumblr.com
> 
> This is my twenty-fourth square: "Chained to a wall".  
> Also part 1 of a Mini series - my Bingo is almost done you guys! ♥

****

**Sticking Together**

Bruce can feel a headache pounding through his entire skull. It might as well be splitting his head in two, and the familiar angry roar echoing back in his mind sure doesn't help it.

Hulk is trashing frantically, itching to break out and take over, but Bruce has got himself under control. He needs to, especially now. If only they could stop arguing, he thinks.

Tony has been yammering on about this solution for what feels like hours, and if he had his hands free, Bruce would have started to tear out his hair by now. 

A tiny little part of him kind of wants to throttle Tony, but he knows the regret would come soon if he did. 

“I’m just saying, if you were to hulk out right now-”

Truth be told, fantasizing about it helps a little bit.

“I would be unable to control anything and the worst case scenario would be crushing both of you while I’m at it.” Bruce snaps at Tony, eyes flashing green for a second. Then his anger simmers back down. He doesn’t _want_ to get angry, because he knows that Tony means well and his faith in Hulk for not accidentally or intentionally murdering him is very much real, but it’s getting exhausting. And at this point, Bruce is pretty devastated. 

The inventor takes a deep breath, but is cut off before he can start again. 

“Come on, knock it off” Clint grouches from his own corner of the damp, windowless cell without even looking up. He’s been awfully quiet so far, and they’re not entirely sure if this is a good sign or not. Usually, he’d be a lot more talkative and probably would have joined the argument, if only because he’s easily bored. Now though, no such thing is happening. 

Clint squirms on his spot, probably attempting to get in a position to get the cuffs off of himself. How exactly he’s hoping to achieve that is anyone's guess, but it would be far from the first time that someone underestimated Clint. It almost always works out in his favor. 

Letting out a shaky breath, Bruce tries to get into a more comfortable position. Which proves to be hard, since he is sitting on a cold floor and with both of his hands tied behind his back. The cuffs are connected to a long chain, which leads to a heavy metal collar around his neck as well as similar restraints around his ankles. It makes it impossible for Bruce to move a lot or even get up, because the chains holding him are firmly bolted into the wall. 

Technically, he could get out, if only he would allow Hulk to take over. If it were just him trapped in this hellhole, he wouldn’t think twice and just do it. 

But as it is, Tony and Clint are in here, too. Their chances of survival would be pretty slim, once Hulk would freak out in a tight room like this. He refuses to try, purely to avoid hurting his friends. 

“Okay, I’m sorry - I’m sorry. Just, you know this would be the easiest way. Hulk likes us, too. He wouldn’t hurt us.” 

To his credit, Tony does look apologetically - it’s not his intention to stress Bruce any further in this already shitty situation that is weighing on him, but he’s clearly doing so anyway. If he could, he would move closer to be able to touch his friend, but as it is, he is just as restrained as Bruce is. That, and the fact that he doesn’t have a suit anywhere near bothers him. While generally able to think, build and improvise his way out of most sticky situations, there isn’t anything even he can do while he’s bound into a tight bundle and chained to a wall - it pisses him off to no end.

Silence stretches out for a while. The only noise they can hear is their own breathing, thumping heartbeats and the steady drip-drip-drip of water hitting the concrete floor from the leaking water pipe in the corner. Also the faint rustling of fabric as Clint keeps moving tirelessly. 

“Look, I understand why you’re worried, I do. But if it comes down to it, we’ll be okay, Bruce. If the big guy makes an appearance, it’ll be fine. He knows us, and he likes us. It would be fine.” Tony insists.

Despite everything, Bruce finds himself smiling. While he’s not entirely sure he should be happy about how lighthearted his teammates react to his other half in general, it really helps a lot. His mind wanders to the framed photos on his desk back home. 

There are various team photos, all of them laughing and smiling, arms wrapped around each other, but there are also photos of Hulk letting Clint use his shoulders as a perch, or Tony feeding him greasy pizza after a battle.

Right now though, the roaring in the back of his head is still very much present, but at least, it isn’t as all-consuming anymore.

“Thanks, Tony. I appreciate the sentiment, honestly. But even if he were to hurt you on accident, I can’t take that risk. This room is way too small.”

He shakes his head, and the movement yanks on the chains holding him. He winches, unable to hide it. 

“Okay, so, Hulk is the last resort.”

With a deep, unhappy sigh, Bruce agrees - but he decides he won’t let it come to that unless absolutely necessary.

“Alright. So, what is plan A? It’s not like we can do anything with the way they left us here. Or can we? Clint?”

“Give me a minute, I almost got it.” the archer answers, slightly pressed and out of breath like he’s been working hard on something. Which he probably has - only a little while later, he sighs in defeat, weighing his options and then coming to a decision. 

He really hates this part. 

“Okay, fuck.” 

Then, the noise of popping joints is audible - it makes his stomach turn, and then Clint has somehow managed to successfully free his right hand. 

His thumb and wrist stick away in wrong, nauseating angles. Bruce winches in sympathy and speechless shock while Tony bites out a half panicked, half disgusted, “What the fuck?!” and suddenly, he is very pale and very silent.

“Former carney and Shield Agent, at your service.” Clint says with a half hearted shrug, as if that’s the answer they need right now. His features are drawn, but it is clear he won’t discuss anything more.

‘Please don’t throw up’ Bruce thinks in the privacy of his own mind - Tony sits directly across from him, and if he were to be sick now, it would absolutely hit Bruce and then he wouldn’t be able to make any promises regarding Hulk. 

“What the fuck?!” Tony repeats quite a few times, and he might as well be asking “Holy shit, are you okay?!” but it feels kinda stupid to say that, given their situation. The obvious answer would be “no”, but he knows that both Clint and Bruce speak his language, so he figures it’s okay. It has to be. 

Clint must be in pain, but he clenches his jaw and starts clawing into the thin mattress on the floor next to him, looking for anything resembling thin wire to pick the locks with. 

Their captors have left this mattress in the cell, just out of reach for the three of them, leaving them on the cold floor instead. It’s thin and shitty and full of holes, but still so much better than dirty, cold concrete.

Bruce is wondering if this is supposed to be a form of psychological torture, almost certain that he’s right about that. 

Despite being here for a while, they haven't been physically hurt by any of them - yet. At least, they didn’t do more than knocking them out, kidnapping them and chaining them onto the walls of a tiny cell. Which, truth be told, is more than enough for now.

His breathing gets a little harder as Clint is digging through the stuffing. Trying to use his fingers results in a sharp pain that shoots up his entire arm, but he forces himself to keep going. His hand is throbbing and will be swollen very soon. It’ll be useless for a while, he already knows. 

But then, Clint lets out a triumphant little “Hah!” as his fingers are closing around something cool and bendy. He lifts it up with a grin, like he just won a trophy. 

Appreciative noises from two sides of the room tell him that his friends share the joy. 

It doesn’t take too long to pick the locks of the cuffs and collars holding him, and then, he’s finally free. Not long after, the shackles are off of Bruce and Tony as well and the three of them scurry their way along a hallway that is just as wet and dark as their former prison.

Feverishly, they hope and pray that their escape has gone unnoticed - no one has come down the entire time, and while being abandoned in a dark basement is a scary thought, it would also mean that they wouldn’t have to fear another attack now.

They have no idea where to go though. 

“Where are we going? I can barely see anything!”

“I don’t know, it’s not like the bastards provided us with a map!”

“Shut up, both of you!”

All three of them freeze. Unconsciously, they scoot a little closer together, hands fisted into each other's shirts and cold fingers wrapped around arms to be reassured that they don’t lose anybody to the eerie half darkness in a building possibly filled with hostiles.

Clint can’t hear any noise, since his hearing is getting worse these days, but the years of experience tell him that something is going on. He is as tense as a bowstring. Inwardly, he curses the fact that he’s only got one usable arm right now - he slowly lets go of Bruce’s arm, preparing to fight, even with his other hand cradled close to himself to avoid any further damage. 

In his left hand, he’s still clutching the wire. It will be most likely useless in a fight, but it’s better than nothing. Even though he hates to admit it, because he is trained in all kinds of combat, with or without weapons, he is not in top form right now. So he feels a lot safer even with the shitty piece of bended wire as his only weapon.

“Footsteps.” Tony hisses under his breath, and pulls his friends further along the way in hopes of getting away fast enough. If only there was anywhere to hide, but he can’t see anything but walls and a long, cold way.

The footsteps sound like they’re coming closer now, and Tony really, really wishes he’d carry a gun or anything else. But there is nothing, nothing of use at all. 

He can feel Bruce tense up next to him, and it is obvious that he is working hard on staying in control of himself. Hulk is roaring again, pushing and tearing on his insides. But Bruce fights it with everything he’s got, even as they stumble into each other and along the hallway.

Suddenly, a door swings wide open and floods the place with an intense bright light.They’re scrambling, eyes shut against the sudden glare of brightness, but it’s already sharp and blinding. This doesn’t stop any of them from throwing punches all around though. 

A mixture of yelling, curses and incomprehensible words ring in their ears as absolute chaos ensues. But the fight is a rather short one, even though it is messy. 

Bruce is hit by multiple tranquilizer shots, unable to do anything as he drops to the floor. Tony is yelling obscenities at the men as he’s kicking and elbowing at them in seething anger. 

Then, something hard hits Clint in the head, and a second later, he drops to the floor and everything around him fades into a deep, deep darkness. 

  
  


*+~

Square: "Chained to a wall"

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:
> 
> \- implied violence  
> \- graphic description of injury (intentional dislocating of a hand)  
> \- brief mention of vomit  
> \- hostagte situation


End file.
